Green Light
by liviafan1
Summary: Set during 2x05. "Her head snaps to his and dammit, she didn't realize how close he actually was. Their faces are inches apart as she feels her breathing speed up. Her gaze flicks to his mouth and back to his eyes, which have darkened considerably." FINIS


**As I re-watch the series for a new collab I'm working on, I find myself falling in love with the show all over again, particularly Season 2 Castle and Beckett, which is where this came from.**

**Set during the Heat Wave launch party in "When the Bough Breaks."**

* * *

She has a _little_ too much to drink at the open bar. She sips on a vodka martini while she listens to Captain Montgomery prattle on about how much the NYPD's image has improved since Castle started shadowing her. And then she proceeds to down the entire drink in a couple of gulps because she knows he'll soon be gone and she probably won't see him again.

As soon as Montgomery sidles away to talk to the mayor, Lanie has her cornered, clad in a gorgeous silk midnight blue dress and a disapproving frown upon her face.

"_What_, Lanie?" she asks, stirring the whiskey sour the bartender placed in front of her moments earlier.

Lanie's eyes flick to Castle, who sits at a table several yards away, surrounded by buxom blondes and waif brunettes.

"Why are you sitting over here drinking like you're 20 years old again when the man of the hour is on the other side of the room?"

Kate takes a sip of her drink, relishes the way the sweet alcohol slides down her throat, muddling her senses.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Lanie hums. "Girl, did you even read the dedication?"

Kate feels a slight brush creep up her neck. "Yes, I read it," she says tightly, keeping her voice even.

"_And_?"

Kate sighs. "And _nothing_, Lanie," she says, exasperation lacing her tone. She really, really doesn't want to get into this now. She wants to take the edge off, make things a little fuzzy before she collapses in her bed tonight.

She wants to forget Richard Castle.

"If it's nothing, why are you so worked up?"

She takes a long swallow of her drink, sets the glass down a little too forcefully on the oak bar. She stares at the glass, her fingers wound tightly around it. "He's retiring Nikki Heat." She lets out a breath and turns her gaze to her friend once again. "He's got a new offer on another book deal."

"And you still haven't told him how you feel."

How she—

_What?_

"How I—Lanie, don't be ridiculous."

"Kate Beckett, you are not honestly going to sit there and tell me that you have no feelings for that man whatsoever."

"Oh, I have feelings for him all right," she says wryly. "Of frustration and annoyance on a daily basis."

Lanie eyes her suspiciously, not buying it for a second. "If he annoys you so much, why are you upset that he's leaving?"

"Because," she huffs, "I've gotten…used to having him around. A little notice would've been nice."

"Do I need to get you a shovel?"

Kate glares at her. "There's nothing going on between us."

"The man tells the whole world that you're extraordinary and you think there's nothing between you? Open your eyes, Kate." She pauses. "You didn't see the way he looked at you when you walked in here."

She swallows hard, closes her eyes against her best friend's words. "His reputation…" she trails off, shakes her head. "I can't take that chance."

Lanie softens, places her hand on Kate's arm. "You've been working side by side for the better part of a year now. You're telling me you don't see more than…_that?"_ she says, flicking her head towards him.

Kate cranes her neck to get a look at him, groaning when she catches him signing another woman's chest. She picks up her whiskey sour and finishes it off, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I'm not saying you have nothing to be worried about, but isn't telling him better than watching him leave?"

Kate doesn't say anything, can't wrap her head around it right now. They sit in silence as Kate watches Lanie making eyes at Esposito.

"I'll be fine here, Lanie," she says. "Go have fun."

Lanie's eyes slide from Esposito slowly, hesitantly. "You sure?"

Kate forces a smile. "Positive."

"Call me tomorrow. We'll grab lunch on your break and nurse that hangover you're gonna wake up with in the morning."

Kate lets out a small laugh. "Okay."

"Think about what I said," she says before making a swift exit to sink her hooks into Esposito.

Kate watches them for a moment, feels her heart pull just a little as they flirt shamelessly with each other. Her gaze slides to Castle, who's posse-less, except for his mother and daughter. He wraps an arm around his daughter, pressing a kiss to her forehead as her face lights up mid-conversation.

He laughs, his eyes crinkling as he turns his head to take a drink. His eyes meet hers, catching her in unabashed staring. Her breath catches in her throat as she ducks her head. Damn it.

She needs to go home. Go to sleep and wake up with a clearer head. In the morning, everything will have returned to the status quo.

Except that he's leaving her.

The precint. Leaving the _precinct._

She tosses a couple of ones onto the bar as a tip and grabs her clutch, straightening her dress as she slips off the stool. At least she's dressed to kill.

She turns, bumps into a strong, solid chest. His delicious cologne hits her senses, makes her dizzy on her feet. His hand grabs her elbow gently, keeps her upright. She swallows hard, presses a palm to his chest as she rights herself. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, though, so her fingers slip against his warm, smooth chest. She removes her hand as if she's been burned, fumbles around to steady herself on the bar.

She finally meets his eyes, amused and a little concerned.

"You okay?" he asks, taking a step closer, invading her space again.

She sucks in a breath. "'m fine."

He raises an eyebrow. "Going somewhere?"

She nods. "Home," she croaks. Monosyllabic seems to be the way to go right now, apparently.

"Did you drive here?" he asks.

Oh, shit. She _did_ drive here. And she's pretty sure she didn't bring enough cash for a cab.

She'll ask Lanie for a couple of bucks. Yeah.

She nods. "I'll take a cab."

"Let me take you home," he offers.

She shakes her head. "I'll be fine, Castle,"

"Beckett," he huffs. "Give me five minutes."

She rolls her eyes. "This is ridiculous."

"You mean _you're _ridiculous."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Castle—"

"Kate."

She startles at the sound of her first name on his lips. Oh, and she loves the way he says it, all breathless and reverent—

Oh. She needs to stop.

"You have people to entertain. They'll notice you're missing."

He shrugs. "Let them." He grabs the crook of her elbow gently, pulling her away from the bar.

"If I ride home with me, will you let go?" she hisses, shrugging out of his grasp.

He rolls his eyes. "Are you always this difficult when you're drunk?"

"I am _not_ drunk." She pauses in her speech, following him out the door. "A little tipsy, maybe. But not drunk."

"Whatever you say, Detective," he says patronizingly.

She clenches her fists at her sides. Infuriating man.

There's a limo waiting for them at the curb. He opens the door for her, gesturing for her to slide in. She steps in, grumbling under her breath.

"I'm really gonna miss that winning Beckett attitude when I leave," he mutters as he slides in next to her and closes the door.

When he leaves. Right. She keeps forgetting that little detail.

"I'm sure you will," she retorts hotly.

She stews silently, jaw set as she forces her gaze out the darkened windows, away from him. He's so close to her that she can hear him breathing, can feel his fingers pressed between their thighs. Her fingers twitch against her leg, playing with the hem of her dress.

"Would you stop fidgeting?" he growls, trapping her hand with his.

Her head snaps to his and _dammit_, she didn't realize how close he actually was to her. Their faces are inches apart as she feels her breathing speed up. Her gaze flicks to his mouth and back to his eyes, which have darkened considerably.

"Castle," she breathes, swallowing hard.

"Yeah?" His voice is raspy, dripping with sex.

She closes her eyes, wills herself to behave. She can't do this, not when he's _thisclose_ to walking out of her life forever.

"Let go of my hand," she grinds out, slipping her hand from his as she forces her eyes back to the window. She thumbs the automatic button, needs to feel the cold air against her flushed face.

A few more minutes. She just has to keep it together for a few more minutes.

* * *

Despite the brisk night air, a bead of sweat has formed on her upper lip by the time they make it to her apartment. She sighs, wills her body to calm down. She never should have had those two drinks, should've refused his offer to take her home.

"Thanks for the lift," she says quietly. She feels like an ass, can't even be bothered to look him in the eye as she says it.

"I'll walk you up," he insists.

She freezes, hangs her head in the space between her the limo and the open door. "Not necessary," she says roughly. And then, because she's some kind of masochist, she says, "Have a nice life, Castle."

And then she runs.

She slams her apartment door behind her, rests her head against it as she blinks away frustrated tears. She's being ridiculous. It's just Castle.

Richard Castle, a man she was doing just fine without before he breezed into her life on his own terms.

A loud, insistent knock reverberates against her head. She groans. It's him. It has to be because the universe hates her tonight.

"Let me in, Beckett," he demands.

"Go back to your party, Castle. I'll see you around." She moves away from the door, kicks her heels off and tosses them into the coat closet. She hears the doorknob rattle as she kicks the closet door closed, realizes that she never locked it.

Shit.

"Beckett," he rasps. "What the hell is your problem?"

She spins around, hands on her hips. "Breaking and entering is a felony, Castle," she growls.

"You owe me an explanation."

"The hell I do."

"'Have a nice life?', really? I've been working by your side for over a year and that's all I get? _Have a nice life?"_ he spits.

"You're the one who's leaving." She brushes past him and pads to the kitchen, grabs a glass to pour herself some water.

"You're the one who's relieved that I'm leaving, remember?"

"Right," she agrees hastily, chugging the cold liquid.

"I'm calling you out on your bullshit, Beckett." He takes the glass from her and tosses it into the sink, grabbing her shoulders roughly, forcing her to face him. He boldly slides a hand down to her hip. "I'm not blind. I saw that you way you looked at me in the limo," he breathes.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Castle," she protests, even as her body cants towards his.

He slides his other hand through her hair, his thumb brushing against her cheek. She closes her eyes, swallows hard at the sensation. "Tell me not to go," he whispers in her ear.

"I can't," she says quietly. "Too much at risk," she confesses.

"Look at me," he prods gently, his thumb slipping over her lips. She gasps, her eyes fluttering open. His palm cradles her cheek, pulls her gently towards him.

"Cast—" He cuts her off as he presses his mouth to hers, soft and demanding. He threads his fingers further through her hair, scraping gently against her scalp. She sighs into him, grasping the lapels of his suit jacket. She tilts her head, her mouth sliding against his as he slips a hand to the back of her dress, his hot palm scalding her skin.

She breaks away, panting softly as his mouth lingers at her forehead.

Oh, that was _good._

"You still won't ask me to stay?"

"I want you to want to stay," she replies.

"How could you ever think otherwise? I thought you _wanted _me gone."

She shakes her head. "You annoy the crap out of me, Castle. Constantly. But," she sighs. "God, help me. I like you."

He grins. "Yeah?"

She rolls her eyes. "Wipe that smirk off your face. Yes."

But his smile doesn't drop from his mouth. "I meant what I wrote, you know. You _are_ extraordinary."

She blushes, tugs her lip between her teeth. "Yeah?"

He nods. "So if, I, uh, ask you to dinner, hypothetically speaking, of course." He clears his throat. "You won't shoot me, will you?"

She smirks. "I guess you'll have to find out for yourself."

"In that case," he leans in and kisses her again, sipping on her lower lip.

"I swear to God, Castle, if you breathe a word of this to Ryan or Esposito, I _will_ shoot you," she mumbles against his lips as she cards a hand through his hair.

He chuckles. "Duly noted, Detective."

* * *

**Thoughts?**

**Olivia**


End file.
